


Rescue

by FishEyenoMiko



Series: Risen [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishEyenoMiko/pseuds/FishEyenoMiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John gets shot, Sherlock saves him the only way he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue

The bullet ripped through John's lung, knocking him to the ground. Lestrade was stunned for a moment, then knelt next to John, putting his hands over the wound on his chest to try to stop the bleeding. 

The gunman, seeing Lestrade was occupied, decided to quit while he was ahead. Turning, he headed off down the alley, only to run onto a very angry looking Sherlock Holmes. The man barely had time to register what had happened when Sherlock grabbed him by the back of his head and slammed his face into the wall. 

Sherlock sped over to where John lay.

"John!"

He pushed Lestrade aside and examined John's chest. He could tell that not even his healing blood could save his lover's life. Looking at John, he saw the look of fear on his face.

"John, listen to me... there is nothing but my voice... there's no pain, no fear, just my voice..."

John's expression immediately relaxed.

"I love you, John," said Sherlock

John opened his mouth to reply, but Sherlock shook his head.

"No, it's all right..."

With a nod, John slumped, losing consciousness.

Sherlock looked down at his dying lover. He knew he could do more than just give John a peaceful death. It only took a moment's debate for him to decide what to do.

Biting his wrist, Sherlock placed the wound over John's lips. He gently massaged John's throat.

"Drink, John. Come on, drink..."

John's lips moved weakly. Then he began to suck at the wound, drinking Sherlock's blood.

"That's it, John... drink..."

Lestrade had moved to John's other side.

"Sherlock... are you-?"

"Stay out of this, Greg."

Sherlock turned his attention back to John, making sure he continued to drink. Finally, he pulled his arm away from John's lips. 

Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "Call Mycroft. And go wait for the car at the corner."

"I could stay and-"

"No. Go wait."

After a moment, Lestrade nodded. "I'll go keep an eye out."

 

Sherlock gently brushed his fingers through John's hair.

"Oh, John... I'm sorry."

Sherlock's phone chimed. He checked it quickly--it was a text from Lestrade, telling him the car had arrived.

"Come on, John, let's get you off the street."

Easily lifting his friend, Sherlock rushed him to the kerb. The car was waiting for them, with Lestrade standing next to it. The driver--a young female vampire--had gotten out of the car. She opened the back door, and Sherlock bundled John inside, then slid in next to him.

"Sit in the front with me," she told Lestrade, opening the passenger side front door for him. Nodding, the detective inspector got into the car.

 

John woke up in the back of the car, shaking. His head was swimming and he felt sick and in pain. He was confused; the last thing he remembered was getting shot. Looking around, he saw that Sherlock was sitting next to him in the back of a car with no windows, and a divider between them and the front of the car. Looking at Sherlock, he realised he was talking to him, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. He shook his head.

"Sherlock, I can't... I... can't..."

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, then he began talking again, his tone soft and soothing. He touched John, but John flinched away. It hurt; in fact, everything was starting to hurt. John doubled over, shaking even more.

"Oh, God... hurts..."

Sherlock gently took John's face in his hands.

"John, it will be over soon."

"Over...?"

"I had to make a decision, John. I had you drink my blood."

"You... you mean, I'm going to..."

John began shaking and seizing.

"Sherlock..."

"John... it will be over soon."

"I want it over now!"

"I'm sorry, John."

"Shut up! Just..."

John suddenly bent over double. He retched, about half of tonight's dinner ending up on the floor of the car.

"John, this is normal," Sherlock tried to explain calmly. "Your body is-"

"I'm well aware of what my own damn body is doi-"

John threw up again. 

"Christ... I..."

John felt his bowels loosen.

"Oh... shit..."

Sherlock opened his mouth, but John silenced him with a glare.

 

The car stopped. John was too shaky and weak at the moment to get out of the car on his own. After a moment, the door opened and a pretty, dark-haired woman peeked in.

"Would you like me to bring you some new clothes, or do you want to just get to a shower? There's one nearby."

"Shower."

"Okay," she said. "Do you need help?"

John nodded weakly. "Could you...?"

She looked over at Sherlock, and apparently thought better of asking about the situation.

"Your human friend is here, as well. The police officer."

"Greg?"

Following the woman's line of sight, John saw that Lestrade was standing near the rear of the car.

"John," said Lestrade, walking towards him. "You want me to help you?" 

John nodded. "Greg, I should warn you, I'm... a bit of a mess..."

"It's okay, John," said Lestrade with a gentle smile. 

Lestrade followed the female vampire, helping John along. Sherlock followed behind them.

 

The shower room was indeed close. The whole room was tiled, with the shower being little more than a recessed area taking up half the room. There were lockers and a few drawers. There was also a row of bath robes in various colours hanging up next to the lockers. Along the wall opposite the shower was a long bench.

"Here," said the vampire, opening a drawer and taking out a bag, "you can put your clothes in there. Do you want me to try to salvage them?"

"No," said John as he took off his shirt and tossed it in the bag. When he swayed while trying to get his trousers off, Sherlock stepped forward.

"John, let me-"

"No!" John steadied himself against the wall. "In fact, you can just leave."

"C'mon John," said Lestrade. "I understand you're upset at Sherlock, but be reasonable."

"Fine," said John. He turned to Sherlock. "Just sit down."

Looking hurt, Sherlock nonetheless sat down on the bench. 

"Here," said Lestrade, "Let me help you."

Lestrade let John lean on him as he removed his trousers and pants, dumping them in the bag.

"Would you like me to stay or have you got everything under control?"

"No, we've got it," said Lestrade. "Thanks, Miss."

She smiled. "Just call me Carmelita."

With that, the vampire left, taking John's clothes with her.

Lestrade turned to John. "Are you going to be able to shower all right?"

John stood, swaying a little. "I think I could use some help."

"Okay," said Lestrade. He turned to Sherlock. "Look, um..."

Sherlock shook his head. "It's fine."

Nodding, Lestrade undressed. He put his clothes in one of the lockers. Then he helped John into the shower and turned the water on. He began adjusting the temperature. 

"Do you like your showers hot?"

John nodded.

Lestrade turned the temperature up just a bit. Then he positioned John under the spray. John stood and the let hot water flow over him. As the water cleaned the blood from John's chest, Lestrade noticed that the wound he'd just gotten was completely healed. There wasn't even a scar left.

The show had two showerheads; the stationary one John was standing under, and another on a long hose. Lestrade got it off its hook and turned it on. He then used it to clean the lower part of John's body.

When the basic filth and grime was washed away, Lestrade got the shampoo.

"Want me to...?" He held the shampoo.

"I can manage," said John, taking the shampoo and washing his hair. Lestrade then handed him the soap and he cleaned and rinsed himself off. Then he turned the shower off and rested against the wall.

"Let me get you a towel," said Lestrade. He got a towel for himself, wrapping it around his waist, then got another for John. 

John slowly walked forward, leaning forward and resting his head against Lestrade's chest. Lestrade was suddenly very aware that John's boyfriend was in the room with them.

"John," he said, gently pushing him away even as he wrapped a towel around him. He was relieved when John didn’t fall back forward, but just stood there with the towel hanging off him.

"Should I get you a robe? John...?"

Lestrade looked at John, and saw that he was giving Lestrade a strange look.

"John...?"

Sherlock got up.

"Lestrade, you should probably go." As he spoke, he walked towards his lover.

Looking at John, Lestrade was beginning to think that might not be a bad idea.

"Yeah, I-"

John began walking forward, keeping a predatory eye fixed on Lestrade. Sherlock stepped between them.

" _Now_ , Greg."

"Right, good idea."

With that, Lestrade left the room.

Without a human in the room, John calmed down. He pulled away from Sherlock.

"Where's Greg?"

"John, when a vampire first turns, their bloodlust is hard to control. It's best Lestrade stay away until you've fed."

John walked over and slumped on the bench.

"There are bedrooms, John. You'll be more comfortable there."

"Yeah, all right."

Nodding, Sherlock took a red robe off its hanger, handing it to John.

 

They left the shower, going down a short hallway, then into a bedroom. It was small; with just a large bed, a small wardrobe, and a chair with a small table with a lamp. The chandelier was painfully bright, but when Sherlock turned it off and turned on the table lamp, John found the light level more tolerable.

John felt tired, but also hungry. There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Sherlock said.

He opened the door to find Carmelita standing there with two humans. The blank expressions on their faces indicated that they'd been mesmerized.

Sherlock led the two humans into the room. John walked toward them, his eyes hazed over with bloodlust. Sherlock guided one of them towards him. Grabbing the woman, he pulled her to him and sank his fangs into her neck. He drank voraciously, grabbing the woman tighter and tighter as he drained more of her blood.

Sherlock finally moved forward, pulling the woman from John's grasp.

"No... more!"

"You can have more," said Sherlock, guiding the man toward John. John grabbed the man, drinking from him with the same vigour that he had the woman.

After a moment, Sherlock pulled the man away from John. Carmelita, who had been standing near the entrance, took the two humans out of the room, closing the door behind her.

John started for the door.

"More..."

"That's enough, John," said Sherlock, putting his arms around him. "Give it a moment and you'll see. You've had plenty."

John roughly pulled out of Sherlock's embrace, but didn't try for the door again. He stood for a moment, waiting. Surely enough, the hunger he'd felt subsided, until he actually felt comfortably full. This just accentuated how tired he was.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" said Sherlock. "I'll take the chair."

Walking over, John flopped onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

 

The first thing John was aware of when he woke up was a lovely, woodsy smell. As he opened his eyes, John half expected to find himself in a tent. Instead, he was looking up at a ceiling. It was less of a disappointment than he might have expected, though; there were elaborate, abstract designs carved into the wood. Turning, he saw that the chandelier hanging above the bed was off. Looking around, John noticed that the lamp next to the chair was also off, and there weren't any windows. John realised that he was seeing in the dark. 

John ran his tongue across his top teeth. He felt one fang, then the other. Reaching up, he felt them with his fingers. Then he touched he robe he was wearing. The silk felt amazing against his fingers, soft and ethereal. The duvet he was on felt nice against his legs and feet. Turning, he saw that it was white with blue abstract patterns, with gold threading here and there.

John turned to look at Sherlock. He'd been reading, but now had the book in his lap, and was looking at John.

"I can see in the dark."

"Yes. And your sense of touch is stronger now, obviously. I can tell by the way you were touching... everything."

John nodded. "What about my other senses? I know your sense of hearing is stronger than mine--I mean, even more than when you were human."

"They'll come soon enough."

There was a pause.

"What time is it?"

Sherlock looked at his watch. "It's 8:30. It's past sun-up."

"You know, John," Sherlock continued, "You might still be able to go out in the sun. If you want-"

"No, it's fine. I'll... cope." John was feeling better than he had last night but there was still some bitterness.

"John," said Sherlock, "I'm sorry."

John snickered and shook his head. "Do you even know what you're apologizing for?"

"You're upset because I turned you into a vampire without your consent."

"So you're apologizing for...?"

"For upsetting you, obviously."

"You're not apologizing for turning me into a vampire?"

Sherlock looked away. "I didn't want to lose you."

"So... you're saying you did it for purely selfish reasons?"

"Mostly," Sherlock admitted. He turned to John. "This surprises you?"

John laughed. "No, I guess not."

"Although," John continued, looking thoughtful, "I guess if our situations had been reversed, I'd've done the same thing."

Sherlock smiled.

"So," John said, shrugged. "I guess we'll just stay here until sundown?"

"That would be fine."

Nodding, John lay back down. 

"I'm still kind of tired."

"That's not surprising," Sherlock replied. "Your body is still going through changes, and your transition was pretty rough. The fatigue will go away eventually." 

"Good." 

John looked over at Sherlock. He'd never been good at staying mad at him, and, after all, Sherlock _had_ saved his life.

"Hey."

"Yes?"

John patted the bed. "C'mon."

Sherlock put his book aside and got into bed. They lay face-to-face, sharing the long pillow that lay across the top of the bed.

John reached out, touching Sherlock's cheek. He no longer felt cold--no doubt because John himself was just as cold now. Aside from that, it felt wonderful; soft and smooth.

"Roll over."

Sherlock looked puzzled, but obeyed. After a moment, John moved closer, resting his head against Sherlock's back. His shirt felt nice against John's forehead. John wrapped around Sherlock's waist, snuggling against Sherlock's long, lean body.

They lay quietly for a moment before Sherlock spoke up

"This will work out, John, I promise."

John smiled. "I know. It's okay, Sherlock."

Pulling the collar of Sherlock's shirt down, John gave him a kiss on the back of the neck.

"I'll see you when I wake up," he said. "You can show me night time London the way you see it now."

Sherlock smiled. "I'd like that. Good night, John."


End file.
